


The Email

by Jakobre_the_Writer



Category: RWBY
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, F/F, Fluff, Happy Ending, Romance, alcohol mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23445982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jakobre_the_Writer/pseuds/Jakobre_the_Writer
Summary: Successful businesswoman Blake Belladonna is busy playing the gracious host at a soiree. How was she supposed to know that the evening's entertainment would bring up old feelings and old memories? These were memories of a wonderful week and feelings for the amazing woman she spent it with. Fluffy, gay one-shot.Based on the song "Dear McCracken" by Bug Hunter.
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long
Comments: 5
Kudos: 45





	The Email

Blake didn’t like soirees. There were always too many people, it was too loud, and everything was just too serious. Everyone attending had spent the week hard at work. Why did they feel the need to bring business into what boiled down to a fancy dinner?  
But it was her company, Menagerie Mechanical, putting on the event, so she had no easy way out. If the company had still been in her parent’s hands she might have been able to get away with working late, but as the face of the company it was impossible. Besides as Sun Wukong, brand new vice president of Menagerie Mechanical would say, there were too many potential business deals to make tonight. It would be foolish to miss out on such a phenomenal opportunity.  
So Blake got dressed up in a flowing purple ball gown and the only heels that didn’t cause her arches to flare up. It took nearly two hours to put on enough makeup to cover the unavoidable signs of aging, but by now Blake was an expert. In any case, she looked like her mother had at fifty and no one would have dreamed of calling Kali anything but stunning at that age.  
That evening Blake had met with Sun, dressed in a fitted suit and winning smile, and the two had entered arm in arm. The hall was full of faces familiar and unknown, old business partners and new entrepreneurs. They wandered the hall, greeting everyone and playing the gracious hosts. Sun had been distracted by a potential business deal no more than twenty minutes in, leaving Blake to her own devices. Blake had attended plenty of soirees over the years so she knew how to act like she cared about the guests and their portfolios. The early part of the evening was full of small talk and no small amount of bragging. Blake deflected dozens of attempts to set up new deals with this year's hot new company before the first hour was over. She slew every offer with a kind word of encouragement and a promise to reconsider when the young business owner had a few more products under their belt. She didn’t remember any of their names. If they mattered in a few years, something could be set up.  
Dinner was a light affair, all salads and tasteless soup, the curse of letting Ghira deal with the menu. Though her parents were not officially with the company, they liked to have a finger in at least something. It had taken quite a few months of quiet negotiating to whittle their influence down to the soirees and actually let Blake run the company that was now in her name. At least dinner meant that the conversation turned from bragging about business to bragging about family. By dessert Blake felt that if she saw one more picture of a chubby baby or a graduating student she might puke, but that might have just been Ghira’s poor taste in food.  
Blake was really looking forward to the entertainment. That had been Kali’s brainchild and she always had excellent taste in music. The Belladonna matriarch was a bleeding heart for new talent, and so tonight’s performer was a folksy guitar player from Mistral named Oscar Pine. Kali had gone on about how he was a true working class hero, building his way up from nothing through hard work and dedication and some other nonsense that Blake didn’t pay attention to. She just hoped the music would be good.  
As dinner was cleared and tables taken away the guests began to get organized for the performance. A small mic was brought out and a chair for the one man band and soon Oscar Pine emerged from the back with a guitar slung over his back. He was shorter than Blake had expected. After taking a moment to adjust the mic, he grabbed his guitar and took a seat.  
“Evening everyone,” he said cheerfully, playing at tuning his guitar. “I’m glad you all decided to give me a chance tonight. I know that chance isn’t something you usually deal with.” There was a smattering of laughter and Oscar grinned. “So without further ado, how about we play some music?”  
He began to play, strumming the guitar lightly in a calm, contemplative style, counting the beats as he did. He played a few measures, then lifted his face to the mic and began to sing. He had a lovely voice, Blake had to admit that. As he played he seemed to gain confidence, looking out and meeting people’s eyes with a kind expression.  
He sang about being on a plane and settling in next to a middle aged woman. Blake raised one eyebrow; as a middle aged woman herself his next words were decisive to how much she would like his music. There was a delay on the plane, and the crowd nodded knowingly. Everyone had been there.  
Oscar sang about looking to the woman next to him while they waited. She had been hurriedly typing an email, so of course he was going to read it.  
“Belladonna,” he sang, “This is already great, dude’s got a pen pal and killer last name,”  
Blake blushed fiercely, feeling the eyes of her compatriots upon her. They must have all thought that this was a purposeful choice, Kali had chosen the music after all, but Blake knew better. This was a real, in the wild, moment of her last name in a song. It had to be a coincidence, of course. Belladonnas were lovely flowers and often found their way into love songs. There was no reason to assume that this was about her.  
Then he sang about how the email writing woman had written the fourth paragraph over and over again, the words of the whole email carefully chosen. The woman was leaving Menagerie and heading back to Vale.  
Blake stared in stunned silence. This couldn’t really be happening could it? She knew that email. She had received that email. She still read that email from time to time, even though it hurt. More importantly she remembered exactly who had sent that email.  
Yang Xiao Long.  
Blake and Yang had met decades ago, in business school and hit it off immediately. Yang had been so much brighter, so much better than anything else that Blake had ever known before. They had been inseparable for the four years it took to get their degrees, promising to stay in touch and work together. They were going to start a company together, and take on the world.  
Then life happened. Blake had gotten involved with the family business and Yang had created a startup in Vale. They had fallen out of contact as the years went on, even though Blake still had the photo from graduation of the two of them hugging in their caps and gowns. She had wondered what might have happened if they’d had just a little more time.  
Then she found out. Yang came to Menagerie for a week to work out a business deal, a merger between her startup and Menagerie Mechanical. Blake had been put in charge of the acquisition, a position she gladly accepted. She told herself that it was a good chance to prove herself to her parents, to get some real business experience. Honestly, she just wanted to see Yang again.  
The two had met over dinner that first night, to discuss the details of the acquisition and welcome Yang to Menagerie. That didn’t happen, not exactly. They had started off the evening talking business but Yang had such a calm way about her, such a friendly manner that the discussion had soon turned to them reminiscing about their days in school and telling stories from their years in business. By the second day, they had begun meeting outside of work and chatting like old friends. At the end of the third day they had kissed.  
The rest of that week had been a blur of happiness and activity for Blake. She didn’t really remember the business deals, Yang had agreed in the end that was all she knew for certain. She just remembered spending time with Yang, seeing the sights of Menagerie, walking along the coast, touring the museums. And they had talked. They had talked so much.  
They talked about themselves, what they meant to one another. Blake had never realized that someone could love her so deeply, or that she could feel it for them in return. They had talked about what it would be like if they could live together, love together for the rest of their lives. They had talked about a future together.  
The week had gone by far too quickly.  
Blake cried herself into a stupor the day that Yang had to head back to Vale. They had said their goodbyes the night before and shared one last kiss before the inevitable spinning up of plane engines ripped them apart. Blake had cried so hard that she didn’t think that she could ever cry again. It was stupid, she told herself, to get so emotional over one woman, a woman that she hadn’t seen in years. But it was love. Love, that wonderfully complex, inexplicable, and sometimes utterly stupid emotion that dominated that week, that dominated Blake’s life every time she thought about Yang.  
She hadn’t even received the email until the following Monday. She had been too emotional, too tender and raw to face the barrage of work emails about conference calls she would need to take and board meetings she would need to go to. The email from Yang had almost been buried entirely.  
It was a long email, several paragraphs of Yang trying to explain what that week had meant without coming across as too emotionally attached. After all, they were both still professional businesswomen. Emotion had no place in the modern economy.  
Blake had saved that email to her computer and her phone without even thinking twice. She wanted to keep it, to savor that last piece of their wonderful week. Sometimes, when she was particularly sad or particularly drunk, she would pull it back up and read it through again. And then she would cry.  
Sometimes she considered asking Yang about it, but that wasn’t possible anymore. She hadn’t spoken to Yang outside of business in the five years since.  
Blake shook her head, pushing the memories aside and focusing on the music. It was just a song, and besides, it was almost over.  
Then Oscar Pine looked up and met her eyes, singing, “...but in the rough draft...In the rough draft she loved you.”  
Blake bolted from her chair, racing for the door. She didn’t care who saw her, what they might think. Sun might have reached out to stop her, but she ignored him. Her phone was in her hand before she had even gotten outside, dialing the number she knew by heart.  
It was three in the morning in Vale. Blake didn’t actually expect the call to be picked up, but she recognized Yang's sleepy voice the moment she heard it.  
“Hello?”  
“Yang? It-it’s me. Blake,” She couldn’t believe she was doing this. It had been years since that week, what was she thinking? She must have been crazy, or overworked, or both.  
“Oh,” came the sleepy reply, then Yang cleared her throat, “Hi Blake. It’s kinda early.”  
“I know. I’m sorry, it couldn’t wait,” Blake said, somehow managing to speak without stumbling over her words.  
“What is it?”  
“It’s...I...this is going to sound really stupid,” Blake admitted. When Yang laughed, oh gods it was the same beautiful sound that Blake remembered. She felt her knees go weak, she wanted to melt.  
“Well don’t keep me waiting,” came Yang’s reply, every bit as cocky and self assured as she had always been. The years in the cutthroat world of business had done nothing to douse her fire.  
“I just...I’m at a soiree.”  
“Sounds fancy,”  
“I hate it.” Yang laughed again and this time Blake joined in, though her laughter sounded timid and weak compared to Yang’s. “The-the musician. He had a song and it was...it was about us. I mean, not us, exactly, but do you remember that email you sent me? It was five years ago, after your trip to Menagerie.” The words trailed off as Blake realized how quiet Yang was. Blake considered dropping the conversation, hanging up and sending an email tomorrow apologizing for the call. She would pretend that she had been drunk. That would be a good enough excuse.  
Finally, after several aggravating moments of silence, Yang spoke. “The musician...was he a short guy? Brown hair and hazel green eyes? Had a weird looking bandanna around his neck?” That was Oscar Pine to a T.  
“Yes! Yes, that’s him,” Blake said, relieved that Yang was at least entertaining the conversation.  
“That fucking...I knew he was spying on my phone!” Yang groaned and Blake could hear her flop back onto the bed. “I should sue or something.”  
“We can sue him together, he used my name in the song,” Blake said, half serious. Yang snorted with laughter at that.  
“Did he really? At your own soiree? Bold move.”  
“He probably thought it was endearing or something.”  
“And what do you think?” Yang asked, her voice suddenly softer, more tender. She wasn't talking about the song any more.  
Blake froze. She hadn’t actually thought this far ahead. Hell, she hadn’t actually thought that Yang would pick up. “I...I think…” Then the tidal wave of emotion crashed over her, and she couldn’t stop spilling her guts if she tried. “I think that I need you. I need to be with you, Yang. I just, I can’t stop thinking about that week. I tried to focus on work and meet new people but it wasn’t the same. I want to be with you, Yang. That’s what I think.”  
“Oh Blake...baby…” Yang whispered. Blake’s heart soared as she heard it, heard Yang call her ‘baby’ again. It was just like when they were sitting on the beaches of Menagerie, sipping cocktails and drinking in each other as much as the sunset. “I...I want to be with you too.”  
“I’m coming to Vale,” Blake said, determination flooding her voice.  
“What? Now?” Yang asked and Blake could imagine her sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the bed like she always did when she got shocking news late at night. “Blake, that’s crazy expensive.”  
“I don’t care.”  
“But-but you just got the company, what are you going to do? You work in Menagerie, the company is based there, you can’t just leave.” Yang was trying to come up with some way to keep her from coming to Vale. For all her lack of planning, Blake had considered this. Yang was slow to trust anyone with her heart. She would need a little extra convincing that Blake was serious.  
“I’ll move my office to Vale. I’ll move the whole company there, or, or I’ll quit. I don’t care about the company, Yang. I care about you.”  
There was dumbfounded silence on the other end of the phone, and Blake filled it with her declarations.  
“I want to wake up next to you again. I want to see the leaves change color in the fall like you always described them. I want to go on walks around the city with you, go out to dinner with you, it doesn’t matter. I want to be with you. I want to come home.”  
The silence stretched out for miles. The silence was so deep that Blake almost lost herself in it. Then, like the clarion call of destiny, like a lighthouse shining in the darkest night, Yang asked,  
“When does your flight land?”  
Blake let out a heavy sigh of relief, her entire body relaxing. “I’ll text you the details. I’ll be in Vale before you know it.”  
“Okay, I’ll pick you up,” there was a moment of hesitation, then, “I-I love you, Blake.”  
“I love you too, Yang.”  
Blake wished she had the words to tell Yang how deep that love went. She wished that she had the words to explain just how much she wanted to see Yang, how badly she wanted to collapse in her arms and forget the world around them. But she didn’t need the words, not yet.  
She was going to be with Yang. She was going home. They had all the time in the world to find the right words.


End file.
